


I'll Follow You Into the Dark

by MelayneSeahawk



Series: Acta Est Fabula [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-10
Updated: 2006-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>love of mine some day you will die<br/>but i'll be close behind<br/>i'll follow you into the dark</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Follow You Into the Dark

The briefing was uncharacteristically short, but what was there to say? "Dr. Jackson died in the line of duty, sir. Again, sir. Brought the body back, sir. Really gone this time, sir. No, Oma didn't stop by and the boys in the morgue haven't reported any flashing lights. Yes, sir, Daniel's gone and left us again. Left me again. Right after telling me he loved me, too. Permission to blow my brains out, sir?" Somehow, "don't ask, don't tell" aside, Jack doubted that would fly.

The General put them on stand-down, and insisted they all go home. Carter's eyes were red when they left the room, and she followed close on Jack's heels as they headed to the locker room; he was sure she'd try to comfort him if he let her catch up. But Carter's attempts at comfort were the last things he needed at the moment – Daniel alive was the first, of course, and Carter's so-called help fell between getting captured and dying first rather than second – so Jack didn't slow down as he showered, changed, and headed topside. Anyone watching Jack would have assumed it was just any other post-mission day. If his shoulders were a little too straight and his face a little too blank, it could easily be written off as exhaustion. And the high collar of his shirt hid the bloody mark where Daniel had pressed his lips to Jack's neck before his heart stopped. He refused to wash it off.

Jack wasn't even aware of driving from the mountain to his house until he found himself staring at the garage door, hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel. He peeled his fingers away and got out of the car. He locked the door absently and drifted up the walk to the house. The action of fumbling for his keys and unlocking the door brought him back, and he switched into cold, calculating mode as he walked through the door.

First thing to do was deal with phones, he thought, dropping his keys onto the hall table. He turned off his cell phone, left it next to his keys, and began unplugging phones around the house, eventually ending up in the bedroom. He briefly considered writing some kind of note, but decided that there wasn't really anything he needed to say. The one person he needed to talk to was already gone, and he didn't owe the rest of the world any explanations.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed – the left side, where he slept – and liberated his sidearm from its holster. He held the gun in his lap, staring at it as if he'd never seen anything like it before. The pose was horribly familiar; a different bed, a different house, a different death, but his insides were just as icy as they'd been that first time, and this time there would be no Airmen recalling him to duty, no Daniel Jackson to remind him that there were things worth living for. Because now, those things were gone.

The gun in his hands was cold and heavy, the metal unyielding and morbidly final. He knew the best way to do it was to swallow the bullet, but even the thought of putting the end of the barrel in his mouth was an obscene mockery of what never was, and now never could be. Utterly ironic, how he found himself here again after all this time, but it felt right, in a macabre way. Each time Daniel had died or been presumed dead, Jack had seriously considered suicide; the only thing that kept him alive the year without Daniel was the knowledge that he was still out there somewhere. Not the case this time.

Touching the bloody kiss on his neck once more, Jack made his decision, not that it took much thought. Closing his eyes, he held the barrel to his temple. Much less personal this way, and he knew exactly where to aim to take a bullet to the brain, just far enough back that he wouldn't miss and take out the optic nerves instead. He pictured Daniel's bright blue eyes and beautiful smile in his mind and pulled the trigger.


End file.
